InSwedish director Bjorn Runges film version of the 2003 Meg Wolitzer novel, the brilliant Glenn Close plays Joan Castleman, the wife of celebrated author Joe Castleman (Jonathan Pryce), whos just won the Nobel Prize for literature. For him, the win is better than sex, which the lusty lion enjoys quite a lot even (and especially) outside the bedroom he shares with his wife. For her, however, the triumph sparks a crisis of identity and conscience that builds as the couple arrives in Stockholm. Adoration will be lavished on Joe; meanwhile, Joan takes her accustomed place in his shadow. Theres a secret at the heart of her resentment, of course, though thanks to a canny script by Jane Anderson (Olive Kitteridge), it feels perfectly of a piece with whats happening onscreen. It also doesnt hurt that, though this portrait of a woman who finds the courage to stand up in a mans world is set in 1992, this particular story comes at the height of our #TimesUp moment.
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But its Close who takes it to the next level with a powerfully implosive performance that doubles asan accumulation of details that define a marriage. She never telegraphs Joans feelings, letting them unravel slowly as we watch her attend parties as a buildup to the big night. Runge breaks up the present-day scenes with flashbacks to 1958, when Joan incisively played by Closes real-life daughter, Annie Starke is taking a creative writing class at Smith taught by the young Joe (Harry Lloyd). The affair that the professor starts with his mega-talented student culminates when he leaves his wife and baby to marry her. And what of this young womans career? My wifes not a writer, the present-day Joe smugly announces to reporters, as Joan sucks up the slight. Its one more to add to a collection underlined by the Nobel committees sexist suggestion that she join the wives of the other male winners on a shopping expedition. And then theres Joe hotly coming on to a flirty photographer (Karin Franz Korlof) assigned to assist him in Sweden.
Why the hell does this long-suffering spouse stay with this skirt-chasing narcissist? There are the grown children, of course: Susannah (Alix Wilton Regan), whos pregnant, and David (Max Irons), a struggling writer waiting in vain for his dad to throw him a crumb of encouragement. But Joans reasons for playing the good wife go deeper. The script wisely refuses to lay them out in dialogue. No need. Everything you need to know about Joan comes through in Closes subtle and simmering portrayal, her eyes a window to a wounded soul. Just dont call Joan a victim the star makes it clear that Joes wife is nobodys patsy. Theres a witty scene in which she plays cat-and-mouse with a journalist (Christian Slater, doing human-slime to perfection) eager to write a tell-all bio of the celebrated novelist with or without his permission. She eviscerates the snoop with scalpel-like precision. And her final confrontation with Joe will have you cheering.
Close plays this ignored, pushed-aside woman like a gathering storm, drawing us into the mind and heart of a heroine whos not going to take it any more. The actress has received six acting nominations without ever winning an Oscar. The Wife, a funny and fierce showcase for her prodigious talents, might just end the drought. You cant take your eyes off her.